


L'été Parisien

by Espe



Category: Captive Prince
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Inspired by Call Me By Your Name, Laurent speaking French, M/M, No peaches were hurt in the making, Slow Burn, Vague references to the movie, What is beauty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13811961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espe/pseuds/Espe
Summary: "Looking back at it now, he could easily say it all started during the chases and games of his childhood. Sometimes, beauty came in the form of the neighbor’s daughter, laughing and pushing him away. Other times, in the way a bead of sweat ran along Nikandros’ neck after an afternoon spent playing in the sun. This time it wasn’t the neighbor’s daughter or Nikandros’ bead of sweat, but his friend’s very brother."Damen - an atypical History of Art student - spends the summer at the de Vère's mansion in Paris. He meets Beauty and deals with Tragedy.





	1. 1 - La lumière

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I felt immensely inspired by the movie Call Me By Your Name and decided to act on it. Bear with my English, pardon, please report to me any idiocy you may find. I love you all. 
> 
> *http://www.property-premium.com/en/search/Sale-Mansion-10-rooms-Paris-16ème-75016-405051  
> The mansion;

Spending Summer away from Greece sounded like an insanity to anyone but him. Who would choose Paris over the endless greens and blues of the Aegean Sea? Apparently, Damen would.

  
“Enjoy staring at stones and eating overpriced bread. I’ll be here, in the most beautiful place in the world, drinking proper wine and swimming in crystal clear water. ”

Nikandros had said, clapping his back, before sending him off to the check-in area. His best friend had never really understood his love for the arts. In fact, his choice in studies had come as a surprise to everyone: as a boy, he spent all of his free time playing football and chasing girls with his friends. Not exactly activities that would encourage developping a sense of the arts.

Looking back at it now, he could easily say it all started during the chases and games of his childhood. Sometimes, beauty came in the form of the neighbor’s daughter, laughing and pushing him away. Other times, in the way a bead of sweat ran along Nikandros’ neck after an afternoon spent playing in the sun. Beauty was everywhere he looked and he envied those who managed to capture it on a canvas or to transfer it to a cold piece of marble. But those weren’t things he could easily explain to his father or his brother or his friends. They were all good people, but severely lacking in sensitivity. So he just smiled at their reproaches and promised he would bring a postcard home. His mother, though. She would have understood. She would have been proud, even.

Damen shook his head. This was not the time to think about her, as it would have made him regret ever leaving his family. Carrying his bag, he made his way to the arrivals, letting himself mix with the airport crowd.

“ _Damianos, mon pote_!”

A young man his age was waving at him from across the hall, long wavy blonde hair let loose and a friendly smile on his lips. Auguste de Vère, his host and roommate in college. He was sporting a ridiculously flattering gingham shirt with his trademark rolled up sleeves and light wash jeans.His smile opened even further as he approached to kiss him three times on the cheeks, finishing with a strong clap on his back. “ _Bienvenu à Paris_ ”.

“Thanks man, I’m happy to see you still insist in bathing in cologne.” Auguste laughed, letting his hand fall on Damen’s shoulder and squeezing it.

“I have to compensate for your smell. Now, tell me about your flight while I carry your bag to the car like the gentleman I am”.

 

The ride to Auguste’s home was short and pleasant. They talked about their shared group of friends, scattered around Europe for their last break before graduation. No one as usual was willing to spend the whole summer in London.

“I’m so glad my brother has no intention to follow our steps. I wouldn’t wish four years of London weather to my worst enemy. ”

“He’s starting college next year, isn’t he?”

“In two years, actually. But he’s so smart he could have started it last year”. Auguste’s eyes always shined when he talked about his little brother. In his words, Laurent was an extremely sweet and yet cunning kid with a love of books and horses.

“Picture Princess Belle with blonde hair and a dick” Orlant had said, before a strong slap from Auguste had him disappearing under the table. That was the treatment he reserved to anyone who dared to say something even slightly offensive against his baby brother.

The car came to a halt in front of a beautiful architecture in typical Parisian style: a seemingly enormous mansion with a large façade and wrought-iron balconies between two turrets. The gate opened and the garden was revealed to them. A small patio, a greenery, a round swimming pool and a garage on the far left corner, close to the mansion. He knew the De Vères were a wealthy family, but he couldn’t help his amazement at the beauty they were surrounded by. Neoclassical statues of maidens and athletes were scattered all around the garden among fruit trees and flower beds.

“Those are my mom’s prototypes. Dad kept them all.” Said Auguste, looking a little somber. Their shared grief for their lost moms was sadly one of the strongest part of their bond. “You can get off here, I will park the car and get back to you”.

Damen got off the car and headed for the mansion, taking in all the little details, like the stained glass windows on the ground floor and the pristine white curtains on the others. Suddenly the french doors behind him opened, revealing the imposing figure of Aléron de Vère. Shoulders as broad as Damen’s, the same long wavy hair of his eldest son although gracefully shading in grey and white and a freshly cut beard. He shook Damen’s hand, before greeting him with the customary three kisses. He smelled cigars on his beard.

“You must be Damen. Welcome to France. We couldn’t get Auguste to stop talking about you, so we figured it was time for us to finally meet you.”

He had a deep, velvety voice and a strong French accent.

“Thank you, _monsieur_. Although I think it’s difficult to get Auguste to stop talking about everything really.” Aléron laughed and squeezed his shoulder in the same affectionate way Auguste had earlier. It seemed like their similarities weren’t limited to their appearance.

“ _C’est vrai_! Come inside, Gugusse will join us soon.” As soon as he stepped in, Damen was struck by polished wooden floors and the multicolored lights reflected by the windows on the bright white walls.

“Lolo! Lolo! _Viens!_ Damen _et_ Auguste are here!” Called Aléron in mixed languages from the bottom of the impressive staircase leading to the upper floor.

He followed the other man to the dining room, where the table had already been laid for dinner.

“I know you usually have dinner later in Greece but I figured you would be hungry after a five hour flight”.

“Thank you _monsieur_ , in fact I am.”

“No problem and as much as I appreciate your manners, I’d like for you to call me Aléron.” He said, patting Damen’s shoulder before going back to the entrance. “ _Lolo! Déscends! Mais qu’est-ce qu’il fait?”_

“ _Papa, laisse tomber. J’irai le chercher après._ ” Said Auguste, emerging from the doorway and running up the stairs with Damen’s luggage. “Come Damen, I’ll show you your room, so you can take a short nap before dinner if you want.” Damen followed suite, stopping just atop the stairs to get in the surroundings.

“This one on your left is my room. On the right down the hall there’s your room. This other door is Laurent’s art studio and his room is just next to yours. You have your own private bathroom inside, just please remember to open the window”. Damen rolled his eyes and went down the hallway to his room.

Other than his, Laurent’s and the art studio, there was another door at the far end of the hallway.

“And whose room is this?”

Auguste head popped out of his door. He frowned, before going back into the room.

“No one’s. It’s for storage. Sleep now or you’ll get grumpy later.”

 

-

 

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by the grinning face of Auguste.

“Is it morning yet?”

“Wake up princess, you snored all the way to dinner. Lolo and dad are waiting for us downstairs.”

“Have you found your brother then?”

A strange emotion settled on Auguste’s features for a second, then he smiled again.

“Yeah. I hope you’re still hungry, Mabel has been cooking all day and she doesn’t appreciate us wasting her food”.

He bounced off the bed and ran down the stairs. Damen shrugged and followed him to the dining room.

He arrived just as Mabel, the maid, brought out the appetizers. She set the tray at the center of the table and proceeded to scold them in English.

“We start with this, the rest comes after. Eat or I get mad. You especially”.

She said, pointing her finger to the butter blond head sitting next to Auguste, facing away from Damen.

It turned, revealing a lovely profile with eyes cast down and reddened hollow cheeks dusted with fair freckles. As it slowly began to face Damen, a set of bright baby blue eyes contoured by long dark lashes and elegant arched eyebrows grazed the floor. Then, the small upturned nose lifted followed by a rosy pout of bow lips. Damen felt again the thrilll of those moments, when he knew he was facing beauty in its rawest form. This time it wasn’t the neighbor’s daughter or Nikandros’ bead of sweat, but his friend’s very brother.

“Damen, this is my other boy, Laurent.”

 

-

The dinner went quite nicely, Damen managed to avoid creeping Laurent out and eating everything that Mabel had prepared. He interjected the quick glances of both Aléron and Auguste towards Laurent’s plate. He ate like a bird, little and slowly, as if forcing himself to. He also didn’t speak, save for answering in monosyllables to the questions Damen politely posed.

“Auguste told me you are not planning to study abroad”.

“No, I’m staying in Paris”.

His accent was as heavy as his father’s and even more enticing. Damen secretly hoped either Auguste or Aléron would engage him in a conversation just to hear him speaking French.

“And what are you planning to study?”

“Fine arts”.

“Laurent is a very good painter. He’s taken after Mom, he’s just as talented” interjected Auguste, before shoving a handful grapes in his mouth.

“I’m not” said Laurent, looking slightly put off. It could be either for his brother way of eating grapes or of praising him.

“You are. You should show him your works, Damen is studying History of Art, he’d love that.”

Damen nodded, directing an encouraging smile to both Auguste and Laurent. Though the former seemed to need it the most.

“I’d rather not.” He answered, face blank and eyes casted down again. He then turned to his father and murmured something Damen could not get.

Aléron nodded before inviting him in for a goodnight kiss. After receiving another from his brother followed by a tight hug, he slightly smiled at Damen and run up the stairs. What an odd boy. Aléron sighed, then stood up.

“Goodnight boys, have fun. I’ll see you next week.”

He then bent down to Auguste ear and murmured something before kissing him goodnight and waving at Damen.

“Dad is going to Lyon for business. We’re in charge of Laurent until he’s back.” Translated Auguste, before standing up and proceeding to climb up the stairs. “I’ll go brush my teeth and then we’re ready to head out and meet Orlant for a beer. You up for that?”

“Of course!” Answered Damen, following him up the stairs. “I’ll brush my teeth too and get changed. I’ve been in these clothes for thirteen hours now”.

“I’ll have to double the usual amount of cologne then” said Auguste, before closing the door of his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - "Damianos, my friend" "Welcome to Paris!";
> 
> 2 - "It's true!"
> 
> 3 - "Lolo, come!"
> 
> 4- "Lolo, come down! But what is he doing?" 
> 
> 5 - "Dad, let it go. I'll go look for him afterwards."


	2. 2 - Qui Me Blesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damen falls. Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so pleased by the reactions to the first chapter! Thank you all for taking the time to review it.  
> Here's another one.

The morning came with all the consequences of a good night out: a splitting headache and a terrible nausea. It was bound to happen with Orlant and Auguste, whose idea of a good time involved bad jokes and red wine. The former increasing with the pouring of the latter. 

 

He had his first sample of wine on his tenth birthday. It’s one of his fondest memories: _pappous_ had poured some into his water at lunch and got heavily reprimanded by both his daughter and wife. “ _Blood of Christ_.” He had said, before proceeding to wipe his mouth with the white tablecloth, out of spite. Dad had chuckled at that, digging into the _dolmadakia,_ hereby declaring the matter settled. A happy family, united in good food and wine, before his father’s secrets and his mother’s illness had torn them apart. 

A strong wave of nausea had Damen running to the bathroom. 

 

-

Breakfast was served outside in the patio. Mabel had informed him, as he headed for the dining room.

“Come help me with the trays”. She added, emerging from the kitchen with her dark hair up in a bun and a bright yellow shirt. From the way she ran the house and ordered everyone around, one had the impression she was the de Vères employer and not the other way around.

He followed her into the kitchen, noticing the trays of fragrant croissants and freshly cut fruit: perfectly evenly sliced cantaloupe, watermelon and apricots all pitted and cut in neat halves.

He stole one, earning one chuckle and head shake from Mabel. 

“Good things come for those who wait”, she said before sending him out with the fruit trays. 

Prophetical, as he was again faced with a perfect profile bathed in the morning sunlight. The light mixed with his hair and lashes, evening out the background like in an impressionistic painting. His apricot lips and blue eyes stood out as odd against the gold. He was immersed in his reading and didn’t lift his eyes when Damen approached the table. He almost dropped the fruit, like the starstruck idiot he was. His fumbling though didn’t go unnoticed, as Laurent smiled to himself, before turning another page. 

“ _Bonjour._ ”

“ _Bonjour.”_

It came as a dream, a velvety slightly high pitched voice. Was there anything not beautiful in this boy?

“Auguste will be here shortly”, added Laurent, eyes still fixed on the book. For a minute, Damen felt hurt, rejected. Then he shrugged at his own ridiculousness. He was a boy, still in high school and his good friend’s brother. Shy, reserved grazing on hostile and studious. Certainly not someone he could find interesting. He was just beautiful, as sometimes Damen would find a flower wet from he morning dew.  

“ _Bonjour_ Damianos. Slept well? ”

Auguste, his saving grace, appeared on the edge of Damen’s vision looking fresh and gorgeous and amused. He went towards his brother and tenderly cradled his head between his hands, before kissing him on the forehead. That managed to distract him from his book, but as soon as Auguste sat next to Damen, he went on reading.

“Fuck you and your friend, I’m never drinking again.”

“As you make your bed, so you must lie on it.”

“I did, in fact I almost vomited all over it.”

“Ah, that’s good breakfast conversation!” Declared Auguste, before proceeding to devour one of Mabel’s croissants. 

He swore he saw Laurent smile a little.  

 

-

 

Some of Auguste’s friends came by in the afternoon for a swim and a volleyball match. Apparently, everybody wanted to meet Damen. He was exceptionally pleased with the news, as an outgoing and friendly person. He wasn’t surprised to see at least fifteen people at the gate, knowing Auguste was as open and amicable as he was. It was hard to keep track of all the names and relation dynamics in the group, so he just proceeded to call everyone “ _my friend_ ”.  

As one of the girls in his team went to retrieve the ball from the street, he felt desperately in need for some water. He informed his team mates before running towards the kitchen. He found Laurent on the porch, next to the entrance. He was reading another book and if it wasn’t for his own increasing obsession for this boy, he wouldn’t have noticed him. His petite form and elegant limbs all arranged on the chair, as if to occupy the least space possible. The chair pushed in the far left corner. It looked as if he wanted to fade into the background.

Even if that was clearly Laurent’s intent, he feel like it wasn’t polite to ignore him. 

“I think I played enough, the others might need some back up.” 

Laurent lifted his head and looked at him puzzled. As Damen began to repeat in slower, simpler English, he spoke. 

“Not from me.” 

“C’mon, the only good player is probably your brother”. 

“He’s good at everything”. There was no trace of jealousy in his voice, only the purest admiration.

Damen was dumbfounded, Kastor would have sounded different in speaking about him. Still, he felt like something dark was luring underneath these words, something that emerged from the way the boy held himself too. A complete, though understandable for his age, lack of self esteem. Damen felt the need to act on it. 

“You’re a very good painter, he says”. 

Laurent’s face turned sour and with that, Damen knew he’d said the wrong thing. 

“Water is inside, if you’re thirsty.” And with that, he went back to his book.

There was no way I will ever be able to crack this code, Damen thought. He drank, then headed for the patio. Laurent was gone. He shrugged, then ran to the back end of the volleyball court to serve. 

 

-

After a shower and dinner, he was ready to go out again. Laurent hadn’t come down to eat, which had had Auguste sighing and Mabel shaking her head. She mumbled something in rapid fire French that Auguste caught and bore like a slap. Then he went back to his cheerful self and pushed Damen out of his chair and up the stairs. 

“Please go change. This is my chance to make love to Ada and you're ruining it by looking better than I do.” 

Ada had been Auguste's crush since primary school. The de Vère often used to spend their summer on the Italian Riviera at the time and that's where they met Ada and her parents. Then Aléron grew busier and busier until it became impossible for them to have long family trips. Auguste and Ada had kept in touch via telephone, but rarely got to meet. When she told Auguste she was coming to Paris to study, he thought it was fate giving them the chance to finally be together. Damen remembered him working on his courting strategies in their shared apartment, asking their friends for advice when answering her messages. It was the funniest and sweetest scene in the world.  Tonight, though, Auguste’s strategy was simply to drink, take her dancing and then home. The added benefits for Damen and Orlant were the free ride and the chance to bring one of Ada’s friends home too.  

"Guys, please, try to be charming and gentlemanly but don't flirt with Ada. This is my chance to have her love me", said Auguste, putting his seatbelt on and taking a deep breath.  

“As if you needed to. She’s already looking at you like you hung the moon.”

“So proper and romantic.”

“And also like she wants to choke on your…” added Orlant.  

“Forget I said anything” said Auguste, interrupting him, before starting the car. 

 

Driving through the 16ème arrondissement was a mixture of pain and pleasure. But for Damen, the striking profiles of the architectures made up for the traffic and diffused bad driving skills of the Parisians. Auguste included. A particularly sudden turn had Orlant yelping and swearing, then the car stopped and they got out. Orland leaned against the car, face paper white. 

“I’m taking an Uber back. You are fucking crazy”.

“ _Désolé mon ami_ , I was afraid we were going to be late.”

“Better late then _dead_.”

“Gus!” Called a pretty voice. A girl with long black hair and an heart shaped faced approached them, along with two other girls. The burgundy crushed velvet of her dress hugged her full breasts and wide hips. Her waist was synched in and her smile was as bright as Auguste’s. She looked stunning.

Auguste stuttered a greeting, before she took his hand and gestured to the other girls to come forward. 

“Meet my friends, Ute and Bernadette”. 

 

-

 

Everything went according to Auguste’s plan. Orlant called a taxi for him and Bernadette, continuously winking at them from above her head while she hugged him. Damen shook his head, arm wrapped around Ute’s shoulders, his vision swimming as an effect of the wine. 

“Let’s go back. No, no, no I drive. You drank too much” said Ada, snatching the keys of the car away from Auguste’s hand.

“ _J'veux te marier,_ I want to marry you, please be my wife, _la mia moglie_.” He said sporting his drunk Italian knowledge, clinging to her arm ad letting himself be carried to the car. 

After she managed to have Auguste wear his seatbelt and leave her hand, Ada started the car and headed for the de Vère's mansion.  

Somewhere along the ride, Ute’s hands started to wander. Damen turned his head and gulped. 

He remembered her distinctly having shoulder-length, straight, strawberry blonde hair. It had morphed in soft butter blonde waves, cut sharply at the base of the neck. Her small full mouth, now proceeding to attach his neck, was a distinctive apricot colored pout. When she lifted her head to alluringly look at him, instead of warm honey, he saw deep blue. 

He flinched. It was enough to make the illusion disappear and to startle Ute. She had morphed back into herself and she was apologizing.

“Sorry, you’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to get home” he sad, kissing her head. She was as intoxicated as he was, so it was enough to pacify her. Damen felt the need to bang his head against the window pane. 

 

-

The room of Auguste’s door slam shut, while he and Ute were still climbing the stairs.

Their mouths were hot and their hands bold, skimming through clothes to find skin. Flecks of Damen’s mind kept going back to fairer hair and a leaner figure, but the was too intoxicated by the smell of her skin and the feel of her want to stop. The wine had made him impatient, so he picked her cup by her thighs and slammed her against the door. She giggled and pulled his hair, occasionally smoothing his curls and making him even harder against her. He bit her bottom lip and she moaned, arching her back, pressing more against him. His hands moved to her bottom, squeezing it and attempting to pull off her underwear. 

Suddendly, the door opened. Damen lost his footing and he fell over Ute, on the floor, at the feet of a very shocked, living, Raphael painting. Laurent mumbled something under his breath. Then he ran down the stairs, swift and light as a feather. 

Still startled, Damen looked up and then left. There was another door, the one he should have been making out on. His bedroom’s door. He rollled off Ute and approached it, intending to do exactly what he should have done before in the car. He banged his head three times against the solid wood. Hard. 

No more wine for Damen. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Good Morning.  
> \- I'm sorry my friend.  
> \- I want to marry you.  
> \- My wife.


	3. N'est que l'ombre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dip. Splash. 10s across the board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, thank you as always for bearing with my brain farts and for taking time to review them. Hope this is going somewhere and it manages to keep you interested. I know it's the slowest slow burn but, eh.  
> Love love love, see you soon!

_The breeze was warm on his skin and the light was bright, filtered by the curtain of leaves above him. The rich smell of the grass hit his nostrils. Damen’s eyes opened to the bright light of the afternoon sun. He was naked, his skin damp and itchy from the grass and warm from the sun. Unable to stare at it anymore, he turned his head to the left. And he saw him. A pale arm bent at the elbow. Light freckles on a bare back. Damen’s eyes didn’t dare to explore further. Nevertheless, he felt bold, needy and ready. He reached out to trail a finger on the delicate winged shoulder blades. A reverent touch, the one you would reserve a statue of a saint in a secret chapel. John, the apostle whom He loved._

_“Please” he murmured. “Please I want to see you.”_

_He didn’t turn or move, obstinate in his reserve._

_“Please, let me look at you”._

 

-

 

A door closed and then he woke. His head pounded and his heart drummed. Ute was sleeping next to him, fully dressed under the white sheets. He shifted to his side, trying not to wake her. He was still deciding whether he was still dreaming or not, when he heard a shuffling noise and then something dropping to the ground. A small object, most likely wood. He sat up, his feet on the polished wooden floor and then slowly headed for the hallway, to investigate the noise. Standing on the doorway of his room, he could see that the whole house was plunged in darkness and the only sound was of Auguste’s rhythmic snoring. Then he heard the shuffling again. It seemed closer and his eyes darted immediately to the storage room in front of him. The door was shut and the lights were off. 

“Hey, someone there?” 

He said, but no one answered. He then approached the door and twisted the doorknob to try and open it, but it was locked. 

“Damen, what’s wrong?” 

He jolted, scared by the sudden interruption and turned around to see Ute, puzzled and half-awake, on the doorway. 

“Nothing, I head a noise coming from this room”.

“Is the door locked?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s nothing. Come to bed.” 

He shrugged and followed her back into the room.

 

-

 

“I think there might be a rat in the storage room”. 

Auguste’s eyes went wild behind his glass. 

“What?”

“I heard some strange noises coming from there last night.”

Ute nodded, before turning back to her fruit. Ada, on the other side of the table, was filling her croissant with Mabel’s homemade jam. 

“I heard some strane noises coming from your room too.” Auguste winked, elbowing him in the ribs. 

“Gus, you’re embarrassing my friend.”

“ _Scusa, mon amour._ ” He said, placing a hand on her thigh and kissing her cheek. Looking him straight in the eyes, she put half of the croissant in her mouth and his face turned tomato red. 

Damen laughed, before turning his attention to one of the empty chairs next to Auguste. 

“Is Laurent not coming down for breakfast?”

Auguste turned his head to Damen and his smile was sad. 

“Apparently not. But Mabel has already sworn to - quote -  _force something down his throat later_.” 

“He doesn’t eat much, does he?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is it because he is shy? I mean, I’ve noticed that he likes to keep to himself, so maybe he’s not comfortable with eating with strangers all the time”. 

Auguste looked surprised, then delighted and almost _proud._ Damen figured it was because he wasn’t used to see people worried or even remotely interested in his brother. Shame. 

 _“_ Yeah, that’s part of the reason. He doesn’t like to be in the presence of strangers.” Auguste answered, then his smile became a smirk. “But apparently that doesn’t apply to you.”

“What do you mean?”

Auguste’s smile was brighter than the sun.

“He’s here when you are, most of the time. Usually when I have people over, he hides in his room or in some secluded corner in the garden. But not with you, it’s almost like he wants you to notice him.”

Auguste leaned towards him, letting go of Ada’s hand to squeeze Damen’s shoulder. 

“I think he’s interested in you.”

Damen felt the stinging burn of hope, before his jaw dropped. 

"I think he wants to be your friend.”

It sounded like the plead of a concerned older brother. _Please, be my brother’s friend._ Friend. He could do that. 

“Close your mouth, _tesoro._ You’ll catch flies.”

Ada said to Damen, before drowning her cup of milk. 

 

- 

 

After that morning’s conversation, Damen’s mind was set on befriending the youngest de Vère. Auguste had sounded extremely hopeful, but Damen couldn’t help but think about last night and the look he got from the boy he scandalized. Accidentally making out on someone’s door wasn’t the best way to start a friendship. 

He was nervous too and that wasn’t helping. He was a naturally friendly person, so it was the first time he had to think abut how to build a relationship with someone. Should he wait for Laurent to approach him or should he go and seek him out? Orlant and the girls were coming to the mansion for a swim, so maybe Laurent would come out and sit on his usual spot by the porch. 

He would wait for him to come out and then he would try and talk to him. As easy as that. 

Damen’s heart was racing.

 

-

 

“Orlant!” Ada shrieked, as he dived and splashed her again. 

If Damen closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was on the beach, back in Greece. The fresh water wetting his feet to the rhythm of the waves, the pebbles warm from the sun under his back. The memory of that nights dream urged him to join the others in the pool. 

He stopped on the edge, when he saw a figure in the distance. That figure, the pale skin and light freckles, naked from the waist up. He let himself fall ungraciously into the pool, splashing Ada again. 

He emerged only when his lungs started to burn from the lack of oxygen and by the time his head broke the surface of the water, Laurent had already joined his brother on the edge of the pool. His white legs were dangling dangerously close, his feet already under water. He felt the urge to dry and kiss them. Then Auguste turned his head to smile at him and he steeled his resolve. _Become friends with his ridiculously beautiful brother, make him happy._ And then, an ammonition: _don’t ruin everything for a pretty face._

 _“_ Hey Laurent.” 

“Hey.”

“Can you swim?”

“Obviously. I own a pool.”

“Then come and swim with us, you’ll burn your skin sitting there.”

Good God, that sounded creepy. Why was speaking with boy different than with everyone else? 

“Mabel rubbed enough aloe on it to last for a thousand summers.” 

He answered, apparently unbothered by Damen’s observation. 

“God, I hate aloe. It smells disgusting.”

“It does, but it’s the only thing protecting me from a third degree burn”. 

“When we were little, mom had us wearing t-shirts to the beach, remember?” Interjected Auguste, smacking his wet hand on his brother’s lean thigh, the sound of it almost obscene.

Laurent nodded, shaking his head with a fond smile. Bittersweet memories, Damen knew what they felt like. 

“I remember too, you looked so weird coming out of the water with those huge wet shirts and swimming trunks.” Said Ada, looking down at them, pushing her huge sunglasses up her nose. “How bad is my double chin right now?” She asked Ute, who was lying on the sun chair next to hers, dead asleep. 

Laurent giggled at that and Auguste gave him a smile inflused with fondness, squeezing his thigh. 

“Make some space for me and my double chin, _mon amour_ , I’m coming.” He said to Ada, before raising to his feet and giving Damen an expressive look. _Go ahead._ Right. 

“I burn easily too, you know. I just recover quickly.”

Laurent lifted his eyes and ran them all over the expanse of his chest and shoulders. Then he turned bright red.

“I thought you were used to the sunlight. I mean, growing up in Greece and all that.”

“I am. I spent every summer at the beach, apart from this one. It’s only a twenty minute ride from my parent’s house.” Damen swam towards the edge, then raised himself out of the water and sat beside Laurent. He apparently didn’t appreciate the closeness and gracefully shifted away from him. Damen almost sighed. 

“I missed it a lot, when I was in London. Your brother would catch me sighing at old pictures of my summer house sometimes. He teased me endlessly after, obviously.”  

“Sounds like him.” 

“Yeah, he’s the only one that should actually coerce me into choosing Paris instead of Ios for the summer. He’s that good of a briber.”

“He’s persuasive.” Said Laurent, his eyes on the water at his feet, deep in his thoughts. His blank expression didn’t betray their nature. “He could talk anyone into anything, but he would never do it out of spite or selfishness. He must have thought it would do you good to break the routine.” 

Damen’s thoughts flew to his own brother. He immediately suppressed them _._ “Indeed. He’s also very good company.” 

“He talks a lot, it’s easy to get close to him.” And with that, Laurent lifted his face and stared straight at the sun.

His eyes kept on flickering close, unable to stand the brightness for too long. The amount of admiration he had for his brother equaled his lack of self-esteem. At this point, Damen doubted it only had to do with him being young and inexperienced. There was something under there, a totally different fresco from the one had painted up to now. 

“It is, but you know, some people actually enjoy a good challenge.”   

And that was it, he hit the bullseye. Laurent stared right at him, with his baby blue eyes. It was only a second and it wasn’t enough for Damen to decipher the sparkle he saw. But it was there. 

“Is the water cold?” Laurent asked, leaning on his elbows and shifting to dip his legs in even further. From this angle, the edges of his ribs were even more visible.

“Feel for yourself” Damen said, collecting the water in both of his hands and leaned to pour a little on one pointy knee. Laurent looked a little uncomfortable at his boldness but didn’t move. “What do you think?”

“Adequate.” He answered and with one swift movement he plunged into the water. The dip of a swallow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sorry, my love.  
> \- Darling.  
> \- My love.


End file.
